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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25684327">In another life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacewritermonkey/pseuds/spacewritermonkey'>spacewritermonkey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Warrior Nun (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ava Silva AU, F/F, Sister Beatrice AU, Warrior Nun AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:14:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25684327</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacewritermonkey/pseuds/spacewritermonkey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Years before the OCS, evil spirits, halos, and divinium, there was just young Ava and young Beatrice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>191</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In another life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Very much likely an AU because I just drummed this s*** up while chatting with certain folks.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She’d learned to be independent at an early age.</p><p>Her parents were often either busy with their careers or with each other, and so she grew up mostly with the staff, sometimes with a few other kids when their children were around, regularly with nannies, but rarely her parents.</p><p>She knows she really shouldn’t complain. After all, she has never lacked or wanted for anything. Everything she needed is provided; just about everything she wants, she obtains. <em>Everything</em> except for what truly mattered. A part of her knows and has even come to accept that she was loved by her parents—in their own way. At least they cared where she was and if she was alive and well. They certainly sounded like it as she grew up with her nanny constantly sending updates on her whereabouts and how she was faring. These days, it was her driver or whoever else on staff was around at the time.</p><p>But Beatrice is of that age where she’s come to figure out that something is missing.</p><p>In time, she will realize what that “something” is and what it ultimately means. Events that mark the beginning of her new chapter begin to unfold when her parents tell her that she is expected to accompany them to an event. A ribbon-cutting, they say. Their names have spurred the opening of a new wing in an orphanage.</p><p>On that day, she makes sure to dress well. She would never want to cause her parents embarrassment after all.</p><p>Everything will be fine.</p><p>And for the most part, it does. People shake her parents' hands, people applaud in the right places at the right time of each speech delivered, people mingle and socialize.</p><p>Until Beatrice finds herself… lost.</p><hr/><p>Unfortunately, this wouldn't be the first time, she thinks to herself.</p><p>She knows that it's not her parents fault they forget her sometimes. They are busy and important people. And there are simply so many who demand of their time.</p><p>Deep inside, Beatrice acknowledges that it still hurts.</p><p><em>No use in crying</em>. She will have to try looking for them as usual. It's really not that hard. She just follows where the crowd is, and surely her parents will be right in the middle of it.</p><p>As she walks down the dimly lit corridor, she observes how the hall is quite dark for a children's orphanage, she thinks.</p><p>Perhaps she hasn't seen enough orphanages in all honesty, but she had expected that a building that houses children should be something that's more…lively. Or well-lit at the least.</p><p>The tiled floor beneath her are cracked in certain places. What might have been white now resembles mostly faded yellow, at least from areas where enough natural light from outside is able to pass through and spill onto the floor. Beatrice vaguely notes the walls must have had wallpapers given the faded yellow and brown lines and edges that can be seen across one span of wall, which abruptly ends near a set of open doors.</p><p>She can hear echoes of conversation and assumes she must be near.</p><p>But it's not a crowd that she stumbles upon.</p><p>In a room that is barely bright enough with most of its curtains drawn shut, she spies a row of empty beds…save for one. With one lone occupant. </p><p>And the conversation she thought she heard is apparently from a small TV, set against the far corner.</p><p>Beatrice is a bit curious about why the child is here all alone when most of the kids seem to have taken this opportunity to run around outside. But she knows better. Her parents certainly raised her better than to intrude.</p><p>Proper manners and proper decorum had been her guide for most of her life and she knows she should move on while she remains mostly unnoticed.</p><p>But then she accidentally hits the frame of the door and emits a soft grunt of pain.</p><p>Years from now, Beatrice will learn to be wary of letting other people know of her pain.</p><p>"Who's there?"</p><p>Beatrice is startled and unsure of how to respond.</p><p>"Hey! If you're watching me watching TV, least you could do is show yourself."</p><p>Beatrice is confused. She had expected the kid to sit up or at least immediately stand to confront her. And yet… they remained in bed.</p><p>Against her better judgement, Beatrice finds herself moving forward.</p><p>One step, two, three… another.</p><p>When she finally lays her eyes on the bed's occupant, she tries to determine who they are.</p><p>A boy? The unruly cut seems to prove it.</p><p>A girl? Perhaps.</p><p>How does she address them?</p><p>"Well, if it isn't Ms. Gertrude."</p><p>Beatrice is confused. Has she been mistaken for someone else?</p><p>"I'm sorry. My name is Beatrice. Not Gertrude."</p><p>The stranger laughs. "Yeah, I know it’s likely not. You just look like one."</p><p>Beatrice frowns and feels her posture stiffen in response. The words certainly do not sound like a compliment. Then again, neither does it feel like a direct insult.</p><p>"I believe you're being rude," she counters.</p><p>"Lady, I don't know how to be anything else at this point." There was a subtle movement of her head and <em>they</em> start to chuckle. “That was supposed to be a shrug.”</p><p>"For a child, you most certainly are brazen and rude."<br/>"Your height doesn't really scream adult either, does it?"<br/>Beatrice can only gasp as a response.<br/>"You don't even know me!"<br/>"You with the moneybags party?"<br/>"Excuse me??"<br/>"I overheard the nuns talking about some guests. Bet they were stumbling after themselves trying to lick the shoes of those VIPs."<br/>"Those GUESTS just helped this orphanage to get the funding that they needed—that you need." To say Beatrice is offended would be an understatement.<br/>"Ooooh. Did I hit a sore spot or something?"<br/>"Those VIPs you speak so highly of happen to be my parents."<br/>"Ah. Figures. You speak money."<br/>"Again, you don't even know me. And proper social graces do not include inferring or asking about matters regarding finances. Not unless it is a formal business meeting at the least."<br/>"I've seen enough TV to know shit."<br/>"Language," she admonishes.</p><p>And then Beatrice finally can't help herself, "Do you just lay in bed the whole day? Don't you even try to do anything productive like the other kids?"</p><p>"Because you're little Miss Do-It-All, eh?"<br/>"Better than to lie like a stiff."</p><p>The stranger laughs.</p><p>"Something tells me that's seriously the best you can come up with right now, yeah?"<br/>"You are the most annoying child I've ever met."<br/>"Again. Despite your fashion sense, I'm pretty sure you're not THAT old."<br/>Beatrice huffs and crosses her arms, "How OLD are you?"<br/>"Rude. You don't ask a lady her age."<br/><br/></p><p>Oh, so not a boy then.</p><p>"Well fine. What's your name then?"<br/>"Gonna give me yours in exchange?"<br/>"If I must."<br/>"I bet if it were the other way around you'd twitch if you didn't coz then that'd be poor manners."<br/>She chooses not to entertain that last bit with a response and glosses over with a different reply. "My name is Beatrice."</p><p>"Huh."</p><p>Beatrice finds herself crossing her arms tighter around herself.</p><p>"What?"<br/>"It's a pretty name."</p><p>Beatrice blinks in a stumped manner. and heaven help, her but she finds herself blushing at the compliment.</p><p>"Woah, lady. You're turning red. No one ever tell you you’re pretty or something?"<br/>Beatrice tries to clear her throat nonchalantly. “My name is pretty?”<br/><br/>The stranger’s grin simply widens in response, “You’re pretty too.”</p><p>Trying not to let them get to her, Beatrice proceeds with another question. "And your name?"</p><p>"Snuffleupagus."</p><p>Beatrice frowns.</p><p>Ms. <em>Snuffleupagus</em> laughs in a shy manner, which in itself takes Beatrice aback. Since they first laid eyes on each other, they have exuded nothing but confidence. Something Beatrice so wishes for herself.</p><p>"That was a joke. The name's Ava."</p><p><em>Ava</em>. That's... "That's a pretty name as well."</p><p>"Well, Beatrice..." And Ava says it with a certain tone of emphasis. "Your parents drag you here or something? Surely you've got better plans than hang around this dump." In the midst of Beatrice’s confusion, she decides to settle for something more familiar and known. She goes on the defensive on behalf of her parents.</p><p>"You seem to have something against my parents when all they've been doing is try to help you and this institution."</p><p>"No need to get so angry!"</p><p>"Your insinuations are offensive."</p><p>"Your tone insinuates you want to believe it." </p><p>"What?"</p><p>"How'd you end up in my room?" And Ava sounds so smug about it too, Beatrice observes.</p><p>But then the memory of how and why she is in a stranger’s room—Ava’s—strikes Beatrice once more.</p><p>"There it is. Please don't tell me your life story's the sad rich girl with parents who barely pay her attention or something."</p><p>And something in Ava's words sets off Beatrice like nothing else.</p><p>"You don't know me. You don't know my parents. How dare you lay right there and pass judgement on me when you know NOTHING." Beatrice takes two steps forward, her hip nearly touching the edge of the bed as she clenches her fist, trying not to jab a finger at the girl in front of her.</p><p>"How would you feel if I called you lazy for just being in that bed at THIS hour? Or how would you feel if I told you that at least <em>I</em> had parents?"</p><p>And the last one struck both of them silent.</p><p>One with wide eyes in horror. The other with wide eyes and… nothing.</p><p>Beatrice breaks first, unable to believe the words that had come out of her mouth. Or that she broke composure in the first place. However, before she can even begin to apologize, Ava breaks the silence first.</p><p>"If you don't mind me saying, those words sound like you've thought about them repeatedly for a while."</p><p>Ava still manages to get one last shot. Beatrice’s eyes blaze once more, but Ava interrupts.</p><p>"Hey, woah. I'd hold up my hands as a sign of surrender but..."</p><p>Beatrice's frown melts into confusion.</p><p>"Yeah. I'd have stood up and welcomed you into my domain with open arms if I weren’t…you know…stiff."</p><p>Ava has the audacity to cackle out loud while the horror intensifies for Beatrice as the implication of the truth before her finally sets in.</p><p>"Oh… God..." Beatrice whispers.</p><p>"I'm SO sorry—" Beatrice starts but Ava only cuts her off.</p><p>"Don't be. I haven't had anyone to argue with in a while. It's refreshing."</p><p>"What… what do you mean? What about the other kids?"</p><p>"Meh. Some are either too young to understand or get my shit. The others are old enough to be aware they have the better end of the stick and feel guilty to even talk to me."</p><p>And that makes the young socialite pause.</p><p>"How long have you been here?"</p><p>"Too long." And the way Ava answers it allows Beatrice to see a glimpse of what the real Ava might be.</p><p>Beatrice motions with her head, "Are you… sick?"</p><p>"Sick with life mostly."</p><p>"That is… not a good outlook."</p><p>Ava sends her a deadpan look. "No shit. I'm stuck in a bed. I feel nothing below my neck. I might as well feel nothing beyond everything else."</p><p>"But you're alive—"</p><p>"I'm alive in a life where I'm basically a prisoner."</p><p>"Is that why you were so mean to me?"</p><p>"What, because I'm jealous?"</p><p>Beatrice hesitates, but eventually nods.</p><p>"If I'm jealous of anything that you have, Beatrice, it's that you can stand there at all."</p><p>"I'm not exactly happy either."</p><p>Beatrice doesn't understand where the confession came from, but she is startled to realize it is the truth.</p><p>And this truth seems to soften Ava’s anger.</p><p>"How can you be unhappy?"</p><p>Beatrice finds herself shrugging, a hand reaching out to toy with the frayed edges of a blanket that covers Ava.</p><p>"You asked me how I ended up here. I got lost and was trying to find my way to my parents. And well…I got lost because my parents forgot about me. Again."</p><p>"Ah. So, fulfilling the stereotype then?"</p><p>Beatrice raises her eyes in anger but deflates soon enough with a pained shrug as her response.</p><p>"Hey,” Ava calls out hoping Beatrice would look up, but her guest remains quiet and downtrodden.</p><p>"You're right. I don't know shit squat about you and your parents. But… you asked why I was being mean?"</p><p>Beatrice finally looks up to meet Ava's eyes.</p><p>"I think I was expecting a new kid or something when you hit that door. But when you came over here… Do you know that your eyes look familiar?"</p><p>"Familiar how? I don't recall having met you until today." She’s curious if they’d ever met before. Surely, she’d remember. Her father has complimented her once about her near-perfect memory for someone her age and</p><p>"Familiar enough I know what I see whenever I get a chance to look at a mirror."</p><p>Oh.</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>"Isn't it fucked up? All the differences between us and yet pain is the same language everywhere else.” Ava laughs, but Beatrice can tell it isn’t genuine. She has read it before somewhere. <em>Sardonic</em>. Ava’s laugh may be sardonic.</p><p>"But Beatrice…something tells me you have a better chance at being happy than I do.”</p><p>Beatrice shakes her head, "Don't offer me clichés and platitudes. You and I both know it."</p><p>"Not sure I know what ‘platitudes’ mean, but you <em>can</em> be happy. You may have shitty parents, but at least you <em>have</em> parents. You can move and walk and well, if your family doesn’t treat you right, then go find a family of your own. You can do what you want! Do what makes you happy."</p><p>“You make it sound so easy. I don't even have friends." At this confession, Beatrice looks down at her hands and waits for Ava to laugh at her. She also wonders why she keeps on confessing these truths she's hidden inside of her for so long.</p><p>"You know what? I'd volunteer if I could except I can't even call you to ask you to hang out on my best day."</p><p>Beatrice’s head pops back up and sees Ava's grin, which assures Beatrice that she isn't at all too sensitive when talking about her condition.</p><p>Still… </p><p>"I'd take it."</p><p>Ava smirks.</p><p>"You wanna be friends with a stiff?"</p><p>"You're not going to let that go, are you?" Beatrice huffs in exasperation.</p><p>"Nah. At least not until you give me something better in the future different from your grandma look."</p><p>She’s not going to respond to that again. "Like what?"</p><p>"Well, how about 'badass'?"</p><p>"Why on earth would you call me that?"</p><p>"You act all prissy and innocent, but when I finally pushed your buttons a little too well back there, you certainly had the fire to back it up."</p><p>"You think I'm badass?"</p><p>"Well, not right now. Right now, you're still more of a Gertrude."</p><p>Again. Beatrice rolls her eyes.</p><p>"I have half a mind to hit you."</p><p>"Go ahead. Wouldn't even hurt."</p><p>"That's… kid, you have a sick sense of humor."</p><p>"Stop calling me kid."</p><p>"Well stop calling me Gertrude!"</p><p>The swift turnaround in topic takes her aback.</p><p>"What do you mean? You said you don't have friends. How’d that happen? You’re obviously an amazing person to chat with. What, are you secretly a horrible person? Are you a sociopath?"</p><p>“Bet you don’t even know what that means.”</p><p>“I saw all the bloody parts. Pretty sure I do.”</p><p>"Fine. You wouldn't understand."</p><p>"Try me."</p><p>A pause.</p><p>"I have… 'acquaintances'. Children of my parents' staff. Children of my parents' colleagues. At school, there are some who have approached me. But… I feel like they are making friends with someone else."</p><p>"Someone you're supposed to be?"</p><p>"Yes," Beatrice whispers.</p><p>"Have you tried being yourself?"</p><p>Beatrice scoffs. "I don't know if that will do me any good."</p><p>"Why the fuck not?"</p><p>"In my circle, appearances matter."</p><p>"Fuck appearances. It's not as if your real self is some two-headed monster."</p><p>Beatrice chuckles.</p><p>"You sound like you hate clichés and yet you seem to spout clichés one after the other. The advice you keep giving me sounds like one."</p><p>"Gertie, I only have the TV as my trusted company. Gimme a break.” </p><p>"It's a love-hate relationship," Ava adds.</p><p>"Stop calling me, Gertie."</p><p>"Well, stop being such a wet blanket."</p><p>Beatrice huffs and finds herself taking a seat on the bed.</p><p>"Ow!” </p><p>The loud shout scares Beatrice to stand right back up in horror, "Oh my God, your leg!"</p><p>Ava laughs. Loudly. And uninhibited. Beatrice wonders if she has ever known someone who could be so…free.</p><p>"Fucker. I don't feel anything, remember?"</p><p>Beatrice gapes in a mixture of horror and… awe.</p><p>"You… are such a..."</p><p>"Yes? What am I?" Ava taunts. "Go on… say it."</p><p>"You have a sick sense of humor." </p><p>"Aww... You know you wanted to curse back there." </p><p>"I strive not to lower myself to the levels of one with limited vocabulary."</p><p>"Damn. Pardon us commoners then, me lady."</p><p>Beatrice sighs and gestures at the space on Ava's bed. “May I?”</p><p>Ava grins. "Please. By all means."</p><p>"What were we even talking about?" Beatrice asks after a beat or two passes in silence.</p><p>"Beats me. It's been fun having to talk to someone other than myself."</p><p>Beatrice arches an eyebrow in question. "Do that often?"</p><p>"Fuck yeah. I'm a master at monologues." Then, Ava decides to return to her chosen topic. "So… Beatrice. Give any thought to the cliched advice I gave you?"</p><p>"Honestly, I think you have it better here. In a way."</p><p>Ava's jaw drops open.</p><p>"Are you high? Did your gardeners use acid on your plants or something?"</p><p>Rolling her eyes, "Barring the obvious, there IS safety here, Ava."</p><p>"Don't tell them I said this, but I think one of the nuns is actually out to get me."</p><p>"Are you going to let me explain or will you just keep joking?"</p><p>"First off, rude. Second, jokes are half meant. But please continue."</p><p>"This is known to you, Ava. You know the people around here. Their habits. Their purpose. There's certainty in knowing. Out there? In my world? It's… different. People are never truly honest. They want things from you. They want you to be someone. They demand it in fact."</p><p>"And you should… what… just fall in line?"</p><p>"Simply put? Yes."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"What do you mean why? Isn't it obvious?"</p><p>“Beatrice.” </p><p>The sound of her name coming from the doorway causes her to shoot up from the bed and turn around to face the door.</p><p>Before them stood her parents and a nun. “What’s going on? I can’t see, Beatrice.” Ava complains from behind her.</p><p>"We have been looking for you," her father stiffly states.</p><p>"We're running late," her mother adds, subtly looking at her watch.</p><p>Immediately, Ava notices how Beatrice transforms before her very eyes.</p><p>A stiffening of her shoulders, back ramrod straight, passive expression with a hint of soft apology back in front.</p><p>Beatrice’s father glances at the phone in his hand and motions dismissively, expecting her to follow.</p><p>The nun throws her an unreadable look and what looks to be a warning glare directed behind her.</p><p>Just like that, they're gone.</p><p>But expecting her to follow.</p><p>"So… those are the parents."</p><p>Ava can see as soon as her new friend turns back around to face her that Beatrice's smile is small, barely lifting the corners of her mouth.</p><p>"Hey. Maybe you could do something for me. Since you wanna be friends and all."</p><p>A spark of something appears in Beatrice's eyes.</p><p>Ava, for all her bravado at maturity, has yet to understand what it means.</p><p>All she knows is she wants to see that spark in Beatrice's eyes. It belongs there.</p><p>"Maybe you can kill your parents so we're even, inherit all their money, then buy this orphanage?" </p><p>A beat passes. And then another.</p><p>And Ava begins to think maybe she went too far.</p><p>But then...Beatrice throws her head back and laughs.</p><p>And Ava realizes that some things are really and truly even more beautiful when witnessed in person.</p><p>When Beatrice finally seems to have gotten hold of herself, she appears to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.</p><p>"Ava… I do mean this with all sincerity."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Don't change."</p><p>Ava grins.</p><p>"You can bet on it."</p><p>Beatrice turns and begins to walk away.</p><p>"Hey!"</p><p>Ava feels something she rarely feels anymore.</p><p>It's been awhile since she's hated the sight of anyone leaving or walking away.</p><p>But Ava wants to preserve the sight of this girl Beatrice. </p><p>Before she turns and probably never sees her again.</p><p>Beatrice pauses and sends her a questioning look.</p><p>"If I don't get to change… you should."</p><p>Beatrice's head tilts slightly to the side in silent query.</p><p>"I get to stay the same funny person that I am..." she trails off and stares intently into the other's eyes. "...you go be the person you are. Be you. Told you, <em>you</em> could be badass."</p><p>Beatrice blushes.</p><p>"I appreciate your confidence in me."</p><p>"As you should. I'm pretty awesome."</p><p>"If only your vocabulary weren't solely inspired by the idiot box."</p><p>"Beats being inspired by Pride and Prejudice."</p><p>"You’ve read the novel??"</p><p>"Sounds long." Ava grins and Beatrice can only manage to send her one right back.</p><p>"Just do me that one favor, okay?"</p><p>"Kill my parents?"</p><p>"Okay, you<em> know </em>that was a joke."</p><p>Beatrice grins. And it's glorious, Ava thinks.</p><p>"I can't make any promises. But… I'll try."</p><p>"Okay.</p><hr/><p>When Beatrice leaves, they don't make promises. They don't even remember to mention keeping in touch. That day was like a given that perhaps, due to their age, they took for granted as something that could easily be replicated. Something that they could wish to happen at will. </p><p>True to her word, Ava stayed pretty much the same. She stayed strong despite everyone’s intent to seemingly break her of her spirit.</p><p>Beatrice tried to hold up her end of the deal. Even when the memories of a young girl from the orphanage faded from her memory, Beatrice remembered enough to keep on trying to be herself. Even when it seemed that at every turn, someone knocked her down two steps backward for each step forward. </p><p>Until one day, Beatrice tried to be herself "too much too soon." </p><p>Maybe it was a case of the wrong place at the wrong time. </p><p>That day, Beatrice cried like she never had. </p><p>She cried hard and she cried almost through the night. It will be the last time she ever would allow herself to be hurt and to show it ever again...at least not until years later. </p><p>Deep inside, a part of her wondered if she'll ever find a place to be free, find someone to be herself with, no pretense, no holding back. </p><p>In that singular moment where Beatrice thought the pain wouldn’t let her breathe and she felt she couldn’t move, a brief memory of someone crossed her mind. Someone who could perhaps appreciate her for who she is. No conditions. No expectations or favors.</p><p>But then the moment passed much like old fleeting memories do.</p>
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